


Not A Kitten

by Narcotic_Dollie



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: ...or is she?, Clint is not hot for Ivan, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Ivan is hot for Clint, M/M, Natasha Is Not a Good Bro, SO SORRY, The author is not russian, Unwanted Advances, and used google translate for the russian bits, bucky barnes to the rescue, i'm so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22719574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcotic_Dollie/pseuds/Narcotic_Dollie
Summary: "Ah, you are thinking about it, yes?" Ivan's voice has gone smoky, running his thumb over Clint's wrist and yeah, sure, Clint's thinking about it all right, the same way you think about the boogeyman, or global warming, or taxes, which is to say he'sfucking worrying about it.Clint's sweating now and if he doesn't get Ivan to leave him alone in the next five minutes he can't be held responsible for his actions. His eyes land on Natasha, beautiful and perfect and still smirking away in the corner booth."As fun as that sounds--." Clint tugs at his hand. Ivan doesn't let go, thumb steady petting away at his wrist. "--I can't. I'm seeing someone else."-----Or the one where Clint doesn't want to start another turf war, Natasha is a troll, and Bucky saves the day.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 61
Kudos: 239
Collections: Winterhawk Valentine's Day 2020 Blind Date Exchange





	Not A Kitten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luvsanime02](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/gifts).



> This is for the lovely [Luvsanime02](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02) who asked for a pretend dating _**AU**_ and I somehow completely missed the AU part. I'm so sorry, I hope it still hits the spot. <3
> 
> I used google translate for the russian bits, so I may butchered the language horribly. The translations are at the bottom. Enjoy!

In hindsight, this was a bad idea.

But to be fair, Clint hadn't been thinking clearly when he made the decision, seeing as how he'd just spent the last three hours fighting radioactive mongooses. Mongeese? Mongooses. Whatever. Anyways, the point is that when Tony asked if they wanted to get a drink Clint had led them to Hank's without a second thought, because, well, Hank's is fun. The beer is cheap, there's peanuts, and they've got shuffleboard, which Cap loves with all of his little star spangled heart. 

So yeah, Clint completely forgot about avoiding Bed-Stuy in favor of booze and greasy nachos. And at first, everything's fine. Sam and Steve are engaged in a furious battle of knock off, Tony and Bruce are egging them on, and Nat and Bucky are in the corner booth talking in quiet, dulcet tones. It's great. Everyone's having a blast. 

It's not until Clint goes for a refill that things go sideways.

He's at the bar waiting on his beer when he feels the tap to his shoulder. "Yeah--," he starts, but stops as soon as he lays eyes on the person doing the tapping. "Jesus, Ivan, don't you know when to give up?"

"On you, _golubka?_ Never." Ivan gives Clint's shoulder an overly enthusiastic squeeze and Clint's scowl deepens. "It is good to be seeing you again, bro."

Clint doesn't answer, choosing instead to keep his eyes trained on the bar top. He's trying very, very hard not to encourage this sort of behavior.

"Don't be coy, kitten, _"_ Ivan says, a bit of mischief in his tone. "Papa got you a gift."

Clint groans. "Dear god, no." The last thing he needs is another one of Ivan's presents.

"Yes," Ivan says. His bar stool screeches as he shifts closer and Clint's screams in turn as he scooches away. God, where the hell is his beer? "Look."

He shouldn't. If Clint ignores him there's a chance he can get out of this with his dignity still intact. Besides, it's probably more of the same. Ivan has left him all sorts of presents these past few weeks ranging from chocolates and roses to matching tracksuits and gold chains. The most recent gift had been waiting on his doorstep last Thursday, innocently wrapped and filled to the brim with fancy lace panties.

It's been a wild ride, to say the least.

But there's only so long you can ignore something that's being shoved in your face, so eventually he caves. Clint stares down at the gift, then blinks. "Is that…?" He blinks again. Nothing changes."...are those brass knuckles?"

"Yes." Ivan grins, so wide the skin around his eyes crinkle. "I had them put in amethyst. They said diamonds would be better, but purple is your color. You like, yes?"

Clint looks at Ivan, then back down at the weapon, where said amethysts are shining in the low lights. "Aren't brass knuckles illegal?" 

"Yes." Ivan winks. "Just like your good looks."

Oh _no._

Please tell him no one heard that.

Clint glances towards the dark corner and, yep, Natasha and Bucky are both watching intently. Damnit. "Listen, pal--,"

"Ivan, bro. We are friends, yes?"

"Right. Listen, Ivan, aren't you like-- I don't know, married or something?"

"Yes." Ivan covers Clint's hand with his larger, meatier one. "I have had wife for ten years now. Very beautiful. Makes the best stroganoff."

Clint stares at him, dumbfounded. "Then-- Why the hell have you been hitting on me?"

Ivan crowds closer. "Don't worry about her, _kotik,_ " he says, warm, like it's an inside joke the two of them share. "She likes to watch."

_Jesus._

_Fucking._

_Christ._

Oh god, now he can't stop picturing it. Ivan rutting away on top of him, his mustached face glistening with sweat as he moans out, _"Bro,"_ every other thrust. A middle aged Russian woman in the background, watching avidly as her pot bellied husband plows the guy that stole their apartment building, the air thick with the smell of ballsack and borscht.

"Ah, you are thinking about it, yes?" Ivan's voice has gone smoky, running his thumb over Clint's wrist and yeah, sure, Clint's thinking about it all right, the same way you think about the boogeyman, or global warming, or taxes, which is to say he's **_fucking worrying about it._ **

Clint's sweating now and if he doesn't get Ivan to leave him alone in the next five minutes he can't be held responsible for his actions. His eyes land on Natasha, beautiful and perfect and still smirking away in the corner booth.

"As fun as that sounds--." Clint tugs at his hand. Ivan doesn't let go, thumb steady petting away at his wrist. "--I can't. I'm seeing someone else."

Ivan chuckles. "Don't lie, _ptichka_. Are you shy? Don't worry, I will be gentle."

Clint laughs. It sounds hysterical. "Nope, no, not me, definitely not lying. They're right over there. See?" Clint nods to the corner booth, gives a wave with his not trapped hand. "H-hey, babe, come say hi to my friend."

Natasha cocks her head, smirk widening just a shade, and doesn't move an inch.

" _Golubka,"_ Ivan says, all fond as he traces the back of his knuckle down Clint's cheek. "Do not be nervous. I will take such good care of you."

Clint's laughing again, truly unhinged, and Nat stays right where she's at. She's even biting her lip to stop from laughing, the filthy traitor. He's gonna have to break Ivan's wrist and then they'll be another turf war and Kate is gonna be _pissed_ , all because Natasha Romanov picked the worst possible day to be a troll--

Abruptly, Bucky stands.

He moves across the bar, one hip at a time, and Clint's-- Clint's not sure he's ever seen Bucky walk like _that_ before. It's not the easy amble Bucky uses around the tower (hot) or the methodical stomp that preludes him kicking some serious ass in the field (hot hot). It's more of a lazy sort of prowl, all confidence and liquid movements, and Clint's having a hard time thinking straight because Bucky's hips are suddenly very, very distracting.

What's even more distracting is the way Bucky plasters himself against Clint's back, hands snaking their way up under his shirt while he hooks his chin over Clint's shoulder. "Hey baby," Bucky drawls, pressing a kiss against Clint's cheek. "Who's your friend?"

"I--um." Clint's breathing goes funny, which Bucky definitely notices, because his hands are all over Clint's stomach. His brain kind of goes offline for a minute, because, y'know, he's got the world's hottest super soldier draped all over him and all of Clint's blood flow is rerouting south. Eventually his brain starts working long enough for him to sputter out an answer. "Bucky, this is Ivan. Ivan, meet Bucky."

"You and _kotik_ are together?" Ivan asks, frowning now.

" _Da,"_ Bucky says, slipping into flawless russian. Ivan blinks in surprise. " _No on ne kotik. On moy khoroshiy mal'chik."_

Clint doesn't know enough russian to catch his meaning, but whatever Bucky says makes Ivan's eyebrows shoot up and has Natasha's yelling, _"Potseluy!"_ clear across the bar and Bucky cups Clint's jaw, smirking kinda crooked as he slots their mouths together and _\--_

Oh. _  
  
Oh, wow.  
  
_ Clint may not know what a _khoroshiy mal'chik_ is, but he is sure about one thing; He’ll be whatever Bucky wants him to be, as long as he keeps kissing him like this.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
>  _"On you, golubka? Never."_ \-- "On you, little dove? Never."  
>  _"Don't worry about her, kotik."_ \-- "Don't worry about her, kitten."  
>  _"Don't lie, ptichka."_ \-- "Don't lie, little bird."  
>  _"No on ne kotik. On moy khoroshiy mal'chik."_ \-- "But he is not a kitten. He's my good boy."  
>  _"Potseluy!"_ \-- Kiss


End file.
